Redial
by messyfeathers
Summary: Sometimes the wrong numbers can lead you to the write people. [Cecilos, cutesy Wrong Number AU oneshot]


_alcohol cw. also: Night Vale belongs to Commonplace Books_

* * *

The first time Carlos calls, Cecil nearly drops his phone into the mug of coffee cooling on his desk. He recognizes the number - not that he hadpossibly covertly entered it into his phone from the registry of new citizens several months ago, when he realized it belonged to the gorgeous scientist. Cecil doesn't know how Carlos would have gotten his number, but he's so excited he can't bring himself to care. Years of work in learning to control his voice, and it still comes out a breathy mess when he finally manages a "H-hello?"

"Artem, I'm going to need your help collecting clocks. Collect any you find: wall clocks, wristwatches, kitchen timers, cuckoos. Bring them to the lab as soon as possible."

"I-" Cecil interrupts.

"Artem, this is important. I need the clocks from your house, your neighbors' homes, anywhere you can get them. It's for science."

Cecil's heart sinks in his chest before it had time to take flight. That beautiful voice from those perfect lips, and it wasn't even Cecil who he had meant to call. "You have the wrong number," he sighs. There's silence on the other end of the line. "Hello?" he asks a moment before the receiver clicks.

The second time Carlos calls, he's very clearly drunk. "The clocks don't work," he slurs in a voice like spilled whiskey that seeps into Cecil's sleepy ears somewhere around 3 am.

"Oh," Cecil finally says, for lack of a better response.

"Artem, are the clocks real? Is time real anymore?" Cecil hadn't even allowed himself to assume the call was meant for him, and he can't entirely remember why he even picked up the phone. He's about to just say no, because of course time is merely an invention of humanity in an attempt to subdue the passing of all things. But Carlos sounds so small and soft and strangely frightened when he asks, "Am I even real anymore?"

"Carlos," Cecil tastes the name on his tongue, revels in the sweetness of the vowels and the subtly sharp edges. "Of course you're real. As real as that which we deem reality can truly be, at any rate." He thinks Carlos has hung up again until he hears an unsteady breath against the stillness. "If it's any consolation, I sometimes wonder if anything really exists anymore. And if I were to question anything's existence," Cecil swallows. "I'd definitely question something as perfect as you."

The quiet is nearly deafening until Carlos replies. "This isn't Artem is it? Or, wait, is it?" he asks suspiciously.

"Wrong number." Cecil expects the scientist to hang up again, but instead Carlos laughs. It's a breathtaking, fluttery little chuckle.

"What's your name then?"

"Cecil."

"Cecil," Carlos repeats slowly. His voice is honey and amber dripping into the crevice of each letter. He breaks into another slurred giggle. "Why are you up so late? It's late, right? What time is it?"

"Time isn't real," Cecil corrects gently. "I'm awake because you called me."

"Sorry," Carlos mumbles.

"Don't ever be sorry for calling me. You can always call me." It's probably overkill, but it's late and Cecil wasn't actually doing much sleeping to begin with.

There's another breathy laugh before a deep yawn. "I only seem to be able to do that when I'm trying to call someone else."

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to wait until the next time you try to call someone else."

It's nearly three months before Cecil sees the familiar number cross the screen of his phone. A warm smile spreads along his lips at the memory of their last conversation: slurred with liquor and late hours though it was.

"I need to talk with you. This is important. I figured it out - time, I mean. It's slowing down! I need to meet with you sometime to talk it over, maybe show you some numbers."

"This isn't Artem. You have the wrong number."

"Not this time. I made sure."

"But this is-"

"Cecil, I know," Carlos interrupts, that same fondness flowing into the smooth oaky tones. "So about getting together sometime - do you like Arby's?"

* * *

 _notes: I wrote this a long while back for an anon prompt for a wrong number AU inspired by "The Phone Call", and I thought it turned out pretty cute so I'd put it up here! if you would like to leave me a prompt for something cute and sappy and definitely **not** venomous, I can be found at ducktelepathy on tumblr!_


End file.
